


Landslide

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Landslide, Mentions of Cancer, late season 8, mulder and scully dancing, pregnant scully, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 02:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15920835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Mulder finds Scully in the kitchen at 1 a.m. Set in late season 8.





	Landslide

It’s Scully’s absence that wakes Mulder up. He sits up in bed rubbing his tired eyes. There is only a rumpled blanket where Scully’s warm form should be. Mulder glances over at the alarm clock: 1 a.m. Who is the insomniac here? he wonders as he gets up. There are only two places she could be at this time of night and since the light in the bathroom is off, he wanders straight to the kitchen. The sight that greets him makes him grin from ear to ear: Scully is rummaging through the fridge, her back to him, and she is swaying back and forth gently as if to a music only she can hear. With every passing second, as impossible as it seems, he falls a bit more in love with her. 

“Mulder!” She startles, almost letting go of the plate with assorted snacks, when she sees him there in the doorway. A blush spreads on her face quickly coloring her cheeks. But he can’t stop grinning, doesn’t feel guilty in the least.

“Sorry,” he says half-heartedly. “I thought you said eating in the middle of the night was bad, Scully.”

“Yeah, but the baby is hungry and doesn’t yet understand it.” She pats her heavily pregnant stomach; not long and the baby will be here. No more endless hours at the office, no more rushing off to the next great goose chase. This’ll be the greatest, scariest adventure they have ever tackled and he can’t wait. “I wonder who he gets that from,” Scully says, offering him a piece of cheese that he declines.

“He?”

“Or she. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Scully chews on one of these mini sausages that she claims not to like. Her downright ecstatic expression, however, belies that statement. Mulder watches her in amazement, unable to believe his luck. He almost missed this because he’d followed a light, pursued a path she could not follow because he thought it would lead him to the truth. What truth? The only truth he knows is this: Scully and the baby. If only he’d known, he thinks. If only. This is his second chance, a big one, and he is not going to mess it up.

“Why are you dancing?” He concentrates on the here and now. And here, in her kitchen, Scully is unmistakably dancing. Still swaying gently back and forth, his eyes follow her, mesmerized. 

“Come here.” She holds out her hand and he takes it, letting her pull him closer. For a moment he is dazzled by her closeness, grins, but she doesn’t have eyes for him. She puts her finger on her lips even though he is quiet, not saying a word. Maybe it’s her who can read minds, he marvels, chastening himself to silence his thoughts. He needs to listen. There, behind the wall, he hears it. A soft tune, bleeding through.

“Is that…” This time her finger lands on his lips, warm yet firm, effectively shutting him up. The music gets louder in his mind as he recognizes it, a funny trick of the brain, and he feels himself swept up in the melody, in the sentiment.

“Dance with me,” he whispers against Scully’s hair and she giggles like a young girl out on a date for the first time. It’s a rare sound, cherished and tucked away. She fits against him beautifully; the only description he can come up with this late. It should be awkward with her belly, but it isn’t. Their baby is safe between them, sharing this dance with them. It’s just as it should be.

“Who listens to Landslide at 1 a.m.?” Mulder wonders out loud, murmuring the words.

“My neighbor. She… she lost her husband a few months back.” Mulder almost misses a step; a few months back. When he was dead, too. When Scully thought she’d be alone in this, with their baby, in this life. He holds her closer, reminding them both that he’s here now.

“He uhm, had cancer. It was rather quick but… sometimes he couldn’t sleep and she would play this song. She told me, after, that he used to love it. They met a Fleetwood Mac concert and he sang Landslide to her at their wedding, when their daughters were born and… it was the only song that calmed him down. I think she feels closer to him whenever she listens to it. I know she misses him. I sometimes listen… I used to listen.” Mulder takes in the words, every syllable of the song; can I handle the seasons of my life? His hand sneaks between them, comes to rest on her stomach. Their baby, this new life, is sleeping blissfully. Not yet aware of the pain and tribulations the outside world has to offer. Mulder decides to ignore them, too, right now. His hand around Scully’s waist, he sways to the rhythm of the music, softly hums the melody, sings a few verses here and there when he remembers the words. Scully leans against him, lets herself be swept away by him and the music, too. There is tomorrow, another day, where they might talk about the time he was gone, when he was buried. Tonight, though, they just dance.

“Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’, cause I’ve built my life around you,” he sings softly right into her ear. “You’re my whole life, Scully. You and the baby. Without you, I wouldn’t be here.” He kisses the top of her head and holds her as tightly as possible, afraid she might slip away.

“Mulder…”

“You know it’s true, Scully. I’m not sure I ever thanked you properly. I’m not even sure how.”

“You being here is enough.”

“Is it, Scully? Am I-” For a second time this night, she quiets him. He kisses the finger she presses against his lips until she smiles, her whole face coming alive with joy, gratitude. Maybe she’s right; maybe this is enough. For now, while they dance to Landslide at 1 a.m. in her kitchen, it has to be.


End file.
